Thirst for Survival
by SiriusFan13
Summary: Get away from the Cornucopia. Get to high ground. Find water. Oh yeah... stay alive. It seemed like such obvious advice. So, why did it seem like Katniss couldn't follow it? Part of the Games from Haymitch's POV. Rated T b/c it's Hunger Games. Please R&R!


**Disclaimer: I don't own the _Hunger Games_. **

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_Author's note: Just to avoid any confusion, this is based on the book, not the movie. Normally, I wouldn't fuss about that detail when the two were actually rather close, but the issue of water barely came up in the movie, so it seemed worth mentioning, since it was a much bigger deal in the book..._

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_**Thirst for Survival**_

Water... that girl was going to die of thirst because she was too stupid to follow simple directions: Get the hell away from the cornucopia. Find water

His arms were crossed over his chest. His face, impassive. He could have been stone except for the fain tremor in his hands that he struggled to ignore. He sat in the observation room, watching her movements. Ignoring everything save the motion of this pathetic girl who walked briskly, if not somewhat erratically.

She seemed fine. But Haymitch had been in the arena before. He could do the math, even without ten thousand readings and panels and grids feeding him her stats.

He snorted, allowing this derisive sound to hide the disappointment. If she played like this, she'd never make it.

Effie's highly decorated face appeared next to him out of nowhere, startling him, though he'd be damned if he showed it. "What's wrong?" she asked, her eyes scanning the readings. Her finely sculpted brows drawing together in puzzlement as her eyes scanned the myriad of numbers on the screen, obviously looking for something terrible like a flatlining tribute to warrant his poorly masked expression. Finally, finding no problem, she chirped sharply, "Nothing's wrong."

He rolled his eyes and flopped back into his seat. "You don't know what to look for," was his only response.

"The readings are clear."

"The Capitol makes the readings, Sweetheart. They don't mean shit." That wasn't entirely true. Many of those same numbers were sent to the Gamemakers, too. There had to be some authenticity to them or else tributes would die seemingly at random, and even the densest Capitol citizens would be able to tell that something wasn't right. Still, although Haymitch hadn't been playing this game in earnest for a long time, he certainly remembered how it worked. You don't trust anything. Especially nothing provided by the Capitol. These numbers were Capitol-generated.

So was Effie, for that matter. She predictably took offense. She stiffened, but to her credit, didn't leave. Haymitch begrudgingly gave her credit for that, and rewarded her with a curt response to her earlier question.

"Katniss is in trouble," he growled, leaning forward to grab himself a bottle of what he guessed was some expensive, unrecognizable Capitol liquor. "This _is _alcohol, right?" he growled. When she didn't answer, he simply shrugged and twisted off the top, pouring himself a glass of the deep, sanguine liquid. Then capped the bottle again and roughly shoved it aside.

Effie's lips curled into a small sneer of disgust. "Her vitals are fine," was her only response as she dropped smoothly into the seat beside him, eyes again scanning the screen. "And there's nothing dangerous around her."

He snorted. "It's that kind of thinking that gets a tribute killed." His eyes remained fixed on the moving images before him. "You can prepare for what you know. You can deal with what's happening now. But that's not the real threat, is it?" He tore his eyes off of the screen long enough to flash her a cold, bitter smile. "The real danger is what you don't see coming."

"And what, pray tell, doesn't she see?"

"Water."

A distinctly undignified sound of derision escaped her as she sputtered, "But the lake..."

He shook his head. "Careers already staked that out. Even if she _does_ make it there before she dies of thirst, she'll be so weak from dehydration that she'll be easy to pick off." He paused, considering. "No. Her best bet is to go for the stream that feeds into the lake." He jabbed his index finger at a spot on the aerial view.

She studied the image. It seemed to take a moment for the full import of his words to sink in. Then she burst out, "Why, she's going the wrong way!"

His lips again curled into a cold mockery of a smile. In a condescending voice, he replied, "And now you see why Katniss is in trouble."

She perched thoughtfully on the edge of her seat for a moment or two, quietly clasping and unclasping her hands. Finally, she spoke, more to herself than to Haymitch. "She has a lot of sponsors. She'll be fine." Her eyes flicked back to the screens. "Where's Peeta?"

"With the Careers. At the lake. He's fine for now." He waved his hand dismissively as he brought the conversation back to her previous comment. "What do sponsors have to do with Katniss being a stubborn little idiot who ignored my directives to find _water_?"

Effie turned her cold blue gaze back to Haymitch, eyes narrowed. Chin jutting out the way a stubborn child did just before throwing a fit. Prepared to stand up for her tribute for God only knew what reason. Not like Katniss was really _hers_. "She's _looking_," Effie snapped.

He snorted, running a hand through his dark-blonde hair. "Yeah," he sneered. "She's looking. _Now_. When it's probably too late. She's too damn stubborn. Headstrong. Just her against the whole damn world."

"I would think that _you_, of all people, would _like_ that about her. She's just like you."

"That's exactly what I hate about her. Now shut up and let me concentrate." He scooted his chair forward a few inches to throw her back out of his line of vision.

"On _what_?" she exploded.

"On willing her to grow a brain."

Unthinkingly, she snapped, "What do you care what she does? It's not _you _out there." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she must have realized exactly what she said—remembered exactly who she was talking to—because she clamped her hand over her mouth.

He chose to ignore the comment. "They're my tributes."

It was a stupid comment. The last forty-six kids had been his, too. He hadn't even bothered entering the viewing area for the past few years. Not since Effie had gotten the spot covering District 12 and in her mad desire to please her superiors, would deal with the sponsors for him while room service brought liquor straight to his suite.

She must have been thinking the same thing, because her response was quick. "That never bothered you before," she purred. "I remember last year when they both died in the cornucopia. Five minutes into the game. I had to hunt you down to tell you, because you couldn't even be bothered to watch. And when I found you drinking in your room? Do you remember what you said? Because I do. All you had to say when I told you was, 'That's why I don't have kids.'"

Inwardly, he flinched a little at those words. He didn't remember saying them, but he wasn't surprised. He'd drunk a lot last year. More than usual. "Well, it's true," he grumbled.

She stood, glaring down at him. Motioning sharply at his glass, she snapped, "No. _That—_" She pointed a bejeweled finger at the glass before him, "—is why you're alone. No woman would want you. You're a pathetic, disgusting drunk." She sniffed a little, her voice taking on a superior tone. "That's what life in the districts does to a person, I suppose."

Those were the wrong words. "You're wrong, Effie," he replied in quiet, barbed voice. "This is what these damn _games_ do to a person."

Her face went ashen. Her mouth snapped shut and eyes widened so much it was almost comical. They flitted to where there doubtless rested one of many hidden cameras. So, even _she _knew the dangers of speaking frankly.

At the moment, he didn't care. He leaned right into her face. "You don't like me? You don't like what I am?" He jabbed his finger at her face. "You made me. You and the rest of them. You all make drunks and madmen and whores." He leaned back in his chair and laughed. It was a frightening, unbalanced sound. Closer to the hopeless sound that a trapped animal would make than any true laugh. "I used to think it was the winner who was the lucky one in the arena." He shook his head. "But no. My luckiest tributes where those two in the cornucopia. Quick knife to the back. Spear through the heart, and it was done." At her startled look, he added snidely. "There was a television in my room, Effie. I saw. And you know something, even then I thought they were lucky. 'Cause they didn't have to live through the hell of the arena. They didn't have to lose themselves in the killing." He turned and leaned toward her. "And they didn't have to become like me." He snarled that last part.

"Haymitch..."

He ignored her. "Do you know what the kindest thing I can do for them is, Effie? I can let them die now while they're still human. I can let them rot."

He turned away from her then, to fix his gaze on the screen once more. She'd leave now, so he could go back to contemplating his tributes' stupidity.

Effie moved away, pushing her chair in. He didn't grace her with even a parting glance.

_Just you and me again, Sweetheart_, he thought, watching Katniss climb a tree. _Plan on pulling a trick out of your sleeve?_

"What's she doing?" came Effie's voice near his ear.

He jumped almost out of his seat. "Jeez! Don't do that! I thought you were gone." He shot her a supicious look. "Why _aren't_ you gone? Last you're you'd have taken off when I said that."

Her hands tightened on the seat back that she clutched. Without looking at him, she replied simply, "Last year you'd have meant what you said."

"Who says I don't mean it now?"

She studied him assesingly, but said nothing.

"Sit," he growled finally. "Or leave. But don't hover."

She sat. "I can't stay much longer," she replied, as though their previous tension had never happened. "I have to talk with the sponsors..." She brightened at those words. "Oh! Of course! What was I thinking?" she trilled, that unusually serious expression fading from her face.

Haymitch almost expected her to clap like a little girl in her sudden excitement. Her sudden shift in mood startled him. "Nothing?" he suggested sarcastically.

She ignored him. "The sponsors. We can just get some water to her from the sponsors. They _love_ her! They'd be _thrilled_ to help. Does Peeta need any? We'll get water for both of them!"

He at the lake, Effie," he reminded her, irritation coloring his voice. "If Peeta manages to dehydrate there, then we should be asking sponsors to provide him with a brian, not water."

"All right," she chirped. "Just Katniss, then. I'll let them know." She was already on her feet and ready to spring into action by the time Haymitch could even open his mouth.

"Isn't that supposed to be _my_ job, Effie?"

She stopped and blinked at him. "Of course," she reponded slowly. "But you never do it. I always do your job."

He didn't mmiss the way her eyes flickered to his untouched glass of wine. "Your point?" he growled.

"I just assumed..." Her brow furrowed and her lavender lips formed a pout.

"I'm doing the sponsors this year. You can set them up like usual, but let me wheel and deal them for supplies. I know what these kids need."

"They need water. You just said—"

"Sweetheart, you've been stuck working with me for too long if you've forgotten how sponsors work." She bristled at those words, but he continued, unfazed. "Things are going to get expensive. I know we usually don't make it that far, but in case she lives a couple of days, we need to conserve the money they offer."

"Water isn't expensive."

"It's also right there in the arena. I'm not going to waste her gifts on water unless they dry up the lake."

"Haymitch..."

"She can get her own water, Effie. She's in trouble, but she's not dying. Not yet, at least. If I give in to her now, she's not going to learn how to survive. And when she _really_ needs something—like medicine—and we've wasted all of her gifts on _water_, she won't last an hour." He leveled a serious and surprisingly lucid gaze at her. "You want her to die? Then get the water."

Effie stuffened at those words, but didn't fight him this time. "So what do we do?"

"_You _can scrape up some more sponsors, so I have options when I need them. Charm them or whatever you Capitolites do."

That not-so-subtle jab wasn't lost on her. "It isn't hard, Haymitch. We all want the lovers to make it."

Haymitch studied her a moment. His grey eyes taking her in as he tried to decide if she were serious or not. "Try to make them like Katniss a little more," was his only response.

She stiffened. "I remind them that we're trying to save _two_ people this time, Haymitch."

His expression darkened. So she _had _been serious. Damn fool. "Every district has two people, Effie," he replied more kindly than he'd probably ever been to her. "But the smart mentors pick one to help. The sponsors know that. You should, too."

She pursed her lips, clearly choosing her delusion over his reality. "Of course I do. We _all_ do. But do you know what _else_ I know? While you sit and drink, I _listen_. I _interact_. I _learn_. And what I learned is that the sponsors don't want to think about how one of our tributes will live without the other. So, if I talk about the couple, they sponsor enough for two. That way they won't feel like it's their fault when only one survives."

He came dangerously close to gaping at her. "That... is surprisingly well thought out."

"They're my people, Haymitch, as you frequently like to remind me. I know them better than you do. For all your talk, you forget that more than just the tributes are played in this game."

He went cold with those words. She was dangerously close to saying somethign stupid right when she was proving that she had a functional brain in that pretty little chemically enhanced head of hers. If he didn't stop her soon...

He waved her off dismissively as he picked up his glass, spilling quite a bit of its contents on the console and himself. "Yeah, yeah," he snarled as derisively as he could, taking a long swig of the drink. "You and the sponsors against the world, right? Must be rough in your shoes." He ignored how her eyes widened in anger at his slight, adding one more twist to the knife. "Have fun wining and dining while I watch my girl dehydrate. Or starve."

Her eyes flashed as she took the bait. Standing abruptly, she bit out coolly, "Wining would be _your_ category, Mr. Abernathy. In _both_ senses of thoe word..." And with that, she spun on her six inch stiletto and stalked out of the room, too angry to notice the small flicker of regret that remarkably lit in his eyes as the doors shushed quietly behind her.

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_Author's note #2: Thanks so much for reading. There will be at least one more chapter, but this will be a short work so don't expect it to be very long. A few chapters, probably not much more. As noted above, it's based on the book, not the movie (I preferred the book, honestly), but I do find that Elizabeth Banks and Woody Harrelson did such a good job, that I tend to picture them now. Any physical descriptions of them may very well be based on the movie as it's been awhile since I read the book. Just a warning for purists out there:P  
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_And to those of you waiting for updates on my other stuff... I'm sorry. I have writer's block pretty bad right now and I'm swamped in work, so it took me ages to finish this little thing that I poked away at during down time. Hopefully posting this and possibly getting reviews will motivate me to update other, longer works..._

Anyway, that said, thanks again for reading. Please review:) I hope you enjoyed!

_Sirius  
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